The greatest thing about volunteering is the appreciation of the people. There is no better feeling in the world than seeing a person smile and thank you for the work you have done to help them and their community. The streets of La Carpio in Costa Rica are filled with violence - children, mimicking what they see, playing gun games, pick-pocketers lurking the allies, and shattered glass and nails coating the street the children run on with bare feet. The safest way to get by in the slums is to join a gang. When you are in a gang you have a group of people looking out for you, but you also have a group of people out to get you. In Costa Rica I, along with 15 other high school students, reconstructed an old chicken pen into a sanctuary for the families living in the slums of La Carpio to spend the weekends away from the dangers of their streets. Next to the chicken pen we cleared out a swimming area for the people to enjoy themselves and cool off during the hot summer days. When the project was completed the people of La Carpio came to the chicken pen, which we called "La Finca", and held a ceremony of appreciation towards us for devoting our time to giving them a safe place to stay. We all stood in a circle in front of the pen and held hands with the local people as they said a prayer thanking God for this blessing. Hugs and tears flowed around the circle from all the happy sun-tanned faces. Spanish words for thank-you were sang in unison from the people and offerings of fresh grown bananas and pineapple were passed around the circle. Although these people showed us so much gratitude for giving them this place of peace, I was the one who should have been thanking them. They showed me the power of giving. The gratitude I received for helping these families live a safer life opened a special space in my heart only to be filled with the smiles of the people who I help throughout my journeys.
The first step of community service is observing how the people live. My first sights of Delhi, India were the things that could be seen late at night out the foggy window of a bus crowed with eager high school students. Men gathered at the sides of the dusty roads, laying on dirty sheets next to goats and dogs, giggling and making faces at the bus filled with thirty white faces speeding past their dwellings. Drivers in Delhi clearly did not attend the six-month Driver's Ed. course or do the six hours of driving with an instructor that all students at my school are required to do, because the New Jersey police would definitely pull these drivers over and question them for drunk driving. Even at midnight, there was never silence in the air - the drivers constantly honked their horns to warn the car in front of them that they are going to slow and they will now be swerving into oncoming traffic to move in front of them in order to quickly reach their destination. The rules of the road are as followed: the bigger your vehicle the more privileges you receive. Trucks are the kings of the road, they rule over the smaller cars, the rickshaws and the hoards of animals that crowd the streets. These vehicles wait for no man, pedestrian privileges are disregarded to these drivers - so are stoplights. I will never begin to understand the rules of these roads, but thankfully the drivers that we hired to drive us to our service locations do. All I can say is I am surprised and thankful I made it a month in India without getting into an accident on these chaotic streets.
